The Fish and the Sea
by Hawki
Summary: Oneshot: There was an old saying that there was plenty of fish in the sea. It was a saying that had always been false. And by 2048, with the oceans dead, quite literally false as well.


**The Fish and the Sea**

It was 2048, and there were no more fish in the sea.

Nearly three decades ago, it had been the year 2020. In that year, it had been predicted that in 28 years' time, there'd be no more fish in the sea, and in 30 years' time, there'd be more plastic in the oceans than fish. At the time, she'd reflected that the two statements arguably contradicted each other, before realizing that wasn't necessarily the case. If there were no fish in the sea, then by definition, any amount of plastic in the sea meant that there was more of it in the water than fish. And oh boy was there a lot of plastic. With every year, fish went down, plastic pollution went up, and by the year 2040, not only had both predictions come true, but had done so early.

The facts of life rolled over in Gi's head, as sure as the sea ran through the streets of Jakarta. Former capital of Indonesia, abandoned decades ago as the city had sunk under its own weight, now exposed to the elements. Oh, people still lived here, if "living" was the word to use. Her weathered hands clasped the glass of beer in front of her - not her favoured choice of drink, but fruit-based beverages were too expensive, and you only drank the water here if you boiled it. The beer was cool. She couldn't say the same for the 46 degree temperature outside. An outside where below you was water, and above you was perpetual haze, as Indonesia's last rainforests were put to the torch in the name of development. Once, decades ago, she might have been angry. Now, all she felt was apathy, and the need for another beer.

"Zài gěi wǒ yīgèshe," said to the barkeep.

The man nodded and promptly obliged, the credit chip embedded in her forefinger completing the trade. She didn't speak Malay that well, but this being the Asian Century, she did speak Mandarin, as everyone did, in addition to English and Thai. Taking a sip of the beer, she wondered what would happen if Gaia had brought together a group of teens today, what would have been the lingua franca that would have bonded them together. Potentially, still English. But as long as she explained that the world was screwed, that nothing they did could save it, that she'd brought together a group of teens decades ago who'd failed to save the planet, then Gi didn't particularly care. Gaia hadn't spoken to the Planeteers in decades. The Planeteers hadn't even existed in decades either. There'd been people who'd tried before and after that, but it had been too little, too late. Now, Gi reflected, as she sat around on her stool and looked at the flatscreen, all she could do now was sit back and watch the apocalypse unfold around her.

It wasn't pretty. The United States remained in political deadlock as the existence of man-made climate change continued to be debated. The Amazon was being cleared, and what little of it remained was now fated to turn into savanna. The Nile War had entered its eleventh year, which added to the flow of refugees into Europe, where countries continued to close their borders to each other and the Middle East and Russia continued to sell oil and natural gas to a planet that just couldn't get off the stuff, while China continued to burn coal like there was no tomorrow. In the Pacific, oceans continued to rise, storms continued to worsen, and some countries no longer existed, and with Thwaites Glacier having collapsed in 2034, the seas would rise another seven metres over the next few centuries. And Australia? Considering that entire swathes of the country were now uninhabitable, no-one wanted to talk about the place that couldn't decide if it was a country or continent. It _had _decided it was screwed though, so at the least the people who ran the world could agree on some things. Just not anything that might actually change the world, Gi reflected.

Oh, and some prince of some country was getting married. That was nice, she supposed, as she drummed her left hand on the counter. As she looked at her watch, what might have been even nicer if her friend had turned up. Because he was nearly an hour late, and while she didn't have anything better to do, there were still better places she could be. Even at over 70 years old, she could have fun, believe it or not.

"Guess who?"

And, she reflected, as a pair of hands were put over her eyes, so could Wheeler.

"An asshole," she said. Still, she smiled as the hands were removed and her old friend sat down beside her. "You're late."

He shrugged. "Had trouble at the airport."

"And you couldn't ring?"

"I tried, but you have your phone off."

"No way." She pulled the phone out of her pocket. "I had it..." She blushed.

"Well?" Wheeler asked.

Gi put the phone back in her pocket. "Never mind."

"Right." He looked around. "So, what do I get to eat? Or not eat?"

Gi didn't answer, as she just continued to look at him.

The phone she had in her pocket hadn't changed much from how phones had been designed in the 2010s - a veritable mini-PC that she couldn't have imagined in the world she'd once known, where something like the Internet was a fantasy for so many people. But while phones were among the things that hadn't changed, Wheeler had. His hair was greyer. When she saw him, he was wearing a fancy suit and tie. Most of the time it was via Skype, as he and his wife took turns travelling from one conference to another, trying to convince the world that as bad as things had got, they could still get worse. They'd been doing this for decades, and in that time, had not only become parents, but grandparents as well. As he spoke in Mandarin to the barkeep, she looked at his hands - a gold band was on his left hand's ring finger. His right, however, was bereft of rings.

"Ordered the laksa," Wheeler said as he looked back at Gi. "Don't worry, it's got synth meat in it. I mean, not that there's enough arable land in the world to raise cow anymore like we used to, but...what?"

"Hmm?" Gi looked up at him. "What?"

"What?"

"You said what."

"Yeah, what. As in, what are you looking at?"

Gi decided to cut to the chase, forgoing "what," and asking "why don't you have your ring?"

"My ring?" He tapped the gold band. "Course I've got my ring."

"No, the..." She looked around, before whispering, "the other ring."

Wheeler's face fell. "That was a long time ago," he murmured.

"And?"

"And you and I both know that the only way the world is going to be saved is through people, mainly those in power. Green-haired superheroes wearing boxer shorts isn't going to cut it anymore."

Gi frowned. "That's a little-"

"Gi, just because you're wearing your ring doesn't mean you get to be on my case." He folded his arms, a spark of the old Wheeler coming through. "What have you done over these past few years?"

Gi didn't say anything.

"Well?"

She sighed, turned away, and sipped her beer. "I didn't ask you to come here to fight," she murmured.

"I know."

"And there's not much I can do to help oceans that are completely dead." She fingered the ring on her right forefinger - given to her so long ago by a spirit that might as well be as dead as the oceans she once so loved. "I just..." She took a breath and rubbed her eyes. "I need someone to talk to right now."

The laksa arrived. She heard a rumble, and knew it was Wheeler's stomach. She glanced at him, and saw that he was sitting there. Just looking at her. Sweating in a suit that wasn't suited for the Indonesian summer, or really, any summer in any part of the world. She gave him a smile. "You can eat that you know."

"Thanks." Wheeler tucked in, not looking at Gi as she looked at him. As she looked away.

She envied him. She envied them both, to be honest - Wheeler and Linka. Two teens drafted into an eco-hero team who'd discovered the old truth that nearly dying together at the hands of sociopaths multiple times could be a very bonding experience. Coupled with an island paradise, plus bunkhouses, plus teenage hormones, plus the realization that the Planeteers weren't changing the world fast enough (if at all), and before you knew it, you had the foundation for a rock solid marriage that for all its many ups and downs over the decades, had remained standing, even while the world collapsed around them. They'd had a son in 2003, who'd had a daughter in 2042, and all of them continued to fight the good fight as best they could. Truth was, Gi had never felt particularly close to Wheeler - he was irresponsible, jerkish, ignorant, and at times, seemed to only exist so that the other Planeteers had someone they could inform as to the intricacies of the world. Yet he'd lasted longer than any of them. Longer than her, certainly. Longer than Ma-Ti, who was doing what he could in South America, but had given into despair that his ring no longer even worked. And Kwame? She clutched her beer, like a drowning woman in the 2045 Jakartan storm surge. She didn't want to think about Kwame right now.

"Gi?"

Of course, now that she was, she couldn't stop.

"Gi, are you okay?"

"Hmm?" She looked at him and tried to smile. "Oh, yeah. Sure."

"Gi, you're crying."

"Oh, am I?" She rose her right hand and whispered "water," the tears levitating before plopping into her beer. "Well, that's sorted."

"Um, yeah." Wheeler put the laksa (already half finished) aside, put his hands together, and leant forward, as if he was a shrink or something. "Y'know, much as I'd love to make a comment about drinking your tears, I'd rather skip to the hard stuff."

Gi took another sip of beer. "You're not my psychiatrist, Wheeler."

"No, I'm your friend."

"Are you?" She turned and looked at him. "You sure you're not someone who gets chosen for the sake of it, plopped together with people who knew more than you? Who tried to get stuff done even when you were slacking off? Who...who were there when...when you..."

Wheeler sighed. "You done?"

Gi finished the second beer. "Done," she grunted.

"Nice." His face softened a bit. "Trust me, my wife does the holier-than-thou thing better than you."

Gi snorted - she figured. Not so much it being from Linka per se, but what was there left that was holy in the world apart from those who claimed holiness for themselves? Hard to worship nature for instance, when there was so little of it left.

"In case you're wondering, I still have my ring," Wheeler murmured. "But I took it off. Everytime I said 'fire,' I had to keep the ring in check. And trust me, the conferences I attend? That word is used a lot."

Gi smiled, remembering the first mission they'd gone on. Wheeler had said "firefight," which had started a fire in the Geo-cruiser, which she'd managed to point out. Over time, the Planeteers had got the hang of their powers - after all, Kwame couldn't keep saying "we're here to save the earth" if he hadn't found a way to keep his ring in check. Or...

She sipped more of the beer. Kwame. She'd been closer to him than Wheeler, back in the day. There'd been a time, however brief, when she thought she'd felt closer to him in a manner that couldn't be described as platonic. After the train incident in Sydney, most of all. But in the end, it hadn't mattered. In the end, she'd learnt that there was a difference between wanting love, and wanting to be loved. And after the Nile Wars, after Kwame had done what he always did and tried to help, after a stray bullet found its way into his head and his body had fed the earth that he had once had control over...it didn't matter. None of it mattered.

"Gi?"

Over two decades of being Planeteers, and none of it mattered.

"Gi, you sure you're alright?"

And yet that wasn't even the thing that tore at her the most. So, with bleary eyes, she looked up at Wheeler, who was looking at her with concern etched over his features.

"Ten billion," Gi whispered.

"I'm sorry?"

"Ten billion," Gi repeated. "There's ten billion people on this planet, and that number's still going up. Ten billion people who need food, need water, need shelter, and want more and more of it each year. Ten billion people, all connected, and..." She took a breath. "And I don't know any of them."

"Gi..."

"There's plenty of fish in the sea," she said, the words surging forward like waves across the beach. "People used to say that you know. And people still say that, even when the oceans are completely empty. And everytime I hear that, I die a little inside. And do you know why?"

Wheeler remained silent.

"Because it's a lie. Because I spent my entire life trying to save the oceans, and I failed. We all failed. I hate myself for it, I hate the world for it, and..." She took a breath, as she rubbed her eyes. "And I hate that isn't the thing that bothers me most. Because when you and Linka got married, I told myself that maybe I'd find someone I could love like that one day, but I didn't. I know I never will. And...and I'm so lonely..."

She buried her face in her hands, rubbing her eyes. It wasn't tears. It wasn't even frustration. It was...she didn't even know what it was. Self-pity was ugly, she knew that, and there was so much to pity in this world. Half of the human race was at risk of starvation. For the other half, among the leading causes of death was suicide. Deaths of despair, the Loneliness Epidemic, whatever it was called. All she knew were two truths. One, that the human race was perhaps the deadliest creature that had ever existed on planet Earth. Two, within the heart of every man, woman, and child, was the desire to be loved. And here, watching the world burn...she had no-one to behold it with.

"Listen, Gi..."

She looked away and sipped the beer.

"I'm really not the person to talk to about this, but..."

"It's fine," she murmured.

"Yeah, that's bullshit. You're not fine."

"No-one's fine. And you and I both know that the world isn't fine either."

"That doesn't mean you have to-"

"Wheeler, don't," Gi said. "Fine. Totally fine. And you're here to try and save what's left of this country's rainforests. I'm here doing..." She sipped the beer, finishing it. "Well, you know."

Wheeler didn't say anything, and she gestured to the barkeep.

"Lìng yīgè."


End file.
